


Clandestine Connection

by theliteraltrash



Series: Dean is literally Sam's dad [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Neglect, Dean Winchester is Good With Children, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theliteraltrash/pseuds/theliteraltrash
Summary: Dean Winchester was an only child, but Sam didn't know that. Dean was 16 when he got Robin pregnant, and Sam was born. Seeing his son's anxiety over being a teen father, John suggested they tell the world that Sam was his younger half brother.
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Robin (Supernatural: Bad Boys)/Dean Winchester
Series: Dean is literally Sam's dad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898437
Comments: 10
Kudos: 108





	Clandestine Connection

**Author's Note:**

> i realized after i pitched this idea to my friends is that this was subconsciously inspired by disney's andi mack

Dean Winchester was born to Mary and John Winchester on January 24th, 1979. He did not have a younger brother born on May 2nd, 1983. In some other universe, he did, but not this one. Instead of a yellow-eyed demon feeding a 6-month-old a few drops of his blood, then burning Mary to a crisp on the ceiling, the deal that Mary made was followed through by her being dragged to Hell by hounds that only she could see. Mary had known it was coming, so she stayed up late the night of November 3rd, making sure John and Dean were asleep. Getting to spend 4 years being Dean’s mother was the best thing she ever could have asked for, she just wished she could have done it for longer. 

John and Dean were woken up by her screams. Her horribly pained screams. They haunted them both in their dreams and in waking moments. Dean would remember the sight of his mother, torn to shreds on the living room carpet, screaming and coughing up blood as an invisible force tore her more and more open, for the rest of his days. When John was training to hunt, Dean was silent. He didn’t speak, and John sometimes forgot he was there. He’d be left with Uncle Bobby or Pastor Jim. When Dean finally started to speak again, John started training him. He learned how to shoot a gun at age 6. Mary had been dead for two years.

Dean killed his first monster at 13. He was a good soldier, listened to every order his dad gave him. Too scared that whatever had gotten his mom would get him if he didn’t. After that hunt, he would go on a hunt now and then. Not too often, and only during summers. 

He was living alone in a rented apartment for his sophomore year when he met Robin. Dad was taking cases, and Dean was old enough to take care of himself for a school year. He knew how to take care of a case if one came up while Dad was gone. Robin was a nice girl in his English class. They sat next to each other, and Dean started flirting with her as soon as the school year started. She’d blush, roll her eyes, and bite her lip. At first, he tried to act dumb to get her to tutor him. She shut it down quickly, and he felt a relief at being able to talk to someone about how much he was enjoying the assigned reading. 

They started dating in late August and had sex for the first time in October. She’d been nervous, but she said she was ready. He’d been nervous too, and it was awkward but still nice. 

It was a week before Christmas. Dad had called, said he was on his way back from a haunting in Louisville, Kentucky, and that he’d be able to celebrate with him. Robin walked home from school with Dean, her hands fidgeting, tugging her gloves and looking at the ground. “You’re making me nervous,” Dean admitted.

She looked at him, her face red from the cold. “I have something I need to tell you, but it can wait until we get to your place.”

At that moment, all he was worried about was that she might be breaking up with him. He didn’t see her that weekend, so maybe she had thought over how weird it was that he was alone in that apartment. She’d met his dad earlier in the school year, dad had come home while they made out on the couch that was there for Dean to sleep on when Dad took a break between cases. Dad was carrying his duffle, walked in, and cleared his throat loudly. It was an awkward first meeting, but it went well.

They got to Dean’s apartment, shed their coats and gloves, and then sat on the couch. Robin picked at her cuticles. “What’s up?” Dean tried to keep the nervous waver from his voice.

“I’m pregnant,” Robin’s voice was quiet. Dean looked at her with wide eyes. “I took a test and it was positive, so my dad took me to a doctor.”

There were things Dean should have asked instead of what he did ask. Like, ‘do you know when it happened?’ ‘How did your dad react?’ ‘are you okay?’ But he didn’t ask any of those questions. He said, “are you going to get an abortion?”

She’d smacked his thigh and shook her head. “No, I’m living with the consequences of my actions.”

“So, we’re uh… we’re having a baby,” Dean looked down at his hands. Jesus, he was so nervous. “Dad’s gonna kill me.”

Robin grabbed his hand. “I was worried my dad would kill me, too. He told me to tell you, so you could take responsibility for your mistake.”

Dean guffawed. “My mistake? We used a condom. How the hell was I supposed to know it wouldn’t work?”

“Dean,” Robin said. Dean looked at her, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want an abortion, but I can’t keep the baby after it’s born.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Dean had to tell John. Robin was at work when John arrived at the apartment. Dean was working on homework. “How you been, son?” John hugged him.

Dean shrugged wordlessly, staring down at his history textbook. Since Robin broke the news to him, it was like his world had shattered. He couldn’t focus, and he could hardly stomach anything he cooked. “I uh…” he flipped his pencil, tapping the eraser on the table. “I got some news the other day that might change things.”

“What is it?” John sat in front of Dean, his dark eyes staring into Dean’s soul. 

Dean looked down. “Do you remember Robin, sir?” John hummed in the affirmative. “She’s pregnant.”

John was silent, and Dean couldn’t see him move from the corner of his eye. He’d been shocked so thoroughly, he was frozen. “You knocked up your girlfriend?” John said when he regained his composure. Dean felt his hands tremble. “Answer me, Dean.”

“Yes sir,” Dean said. He closed his eyes and felt tears well up. “It was an accident-“

“I don’t doubt that,” John said. “I leave you alone for a few months, and you get your girlfriend pregnant. She gonna do the right thing and flush it?”

“No, sir. She said she’s taking responsibility for her actions,” Dean felt hot tears cascade down his face. “She doesn’t want to raise it, though.”

John sighed. “Look at me,” he said. Dean opened his eyes and looked at his father, not wanting to know what would happen if he had to be told twice. John had disappointment written all over his face. It was like when Dean had needed him to attend a parent-teacher conference about his behavior in class. “If she puts that baby up for adoption will you be able to live with yourself, knowing you’ve got a kid you can’t protect?”

Dean shook his head, tears falling fast and being replaced with fresh ones just as quick. He couldn’t imagine keeping the kid and raising it to be a hunter, but he couldn’t live with the uncertainty. If Robin had decided to raise the baby, he’d be able to keep in touch with her once he had to move. But, if she put the kid up for adoption he wouldn’t be able to keep it safe. He wouldn’t be able to protect it.

“We can keep the baby safe, then. You’ll do the usual, keep an apartment during the school year, and travel with me during the summer. Anybody asks, it’s your younger sibling.”

Dean’s son was born on May 2nd, 1995. Dean was 16, and Robin had agreed to let him raise the kid. Little Sammy Winchester. Dean held him and knew he’d do anything to keep him safe. Even if that meant lying to him for a while.

* * *

Sam didn’t particularly like being held by John. He couldn’t walk yet, just a few steps at a time. Dean had written a letter to Robin the night he took his first steps, making sure to send a copy of a picture of Sam standing. She’d thanked him, then asked him to stop. All the dad stuff, Dean did. He didn’t return to school for junior year, instead he stayed in the motels and took care of Sam. If Dad came home hurt, Dean would patch him up. So, Sam would cry when John held him.

They were visiting Bobby when Sam said his first word. He was on the floor, playing with some toys. Dean was playing with him, smiling at his son. John was talking to Bobby as he walked over. He picked Sam up, and Sam started screaming. He burst into tears and screams “dada” while reaching for Dean. Dean felt his heart stutter as he stood. John and Bobby had fallen silent. Dean approached John and extended his arms. John gave Sam to him, and he stopped screaming. He hid his face in Dean’s neck and sniffled. 

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean whispered, his eyes on Dad. He cradled Sam’s head, then started swaying. “He’ll stop crying soon,” he said.

Dean looked at Bobby, taking in the expression on his face. Bobby didn’t know, but Dean had a feeling he either suspected or he bought the lie and thought that Dean was a better caretaker. “Am I gonna get to hold him once he’s calm, or is that too much to ask,  _ dada _ ,” John said. There was an authority to his voice, that made Dean look down.

“That’s up to him, sir,” Dean said. Sam grabbed the collar of his flannel, and Dean looked at him. He watched as Sam looked up at him, tugging on the fabric. He wiped the tears off his son’s face.

“Give me your brother, Dean,” John said.

Dean gently took the collar of his flannel back, then handed Sam to Dad. “This is dada, Sammy,” he said, gesturing to Dad. Sam looked at John and grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt as the mn adjusted his hold. Sam looked at him again. “I’m your big brother, Dean. I get the confusion,” he said. His chest ached as Sam held onto Dad.

John carried Sam into another room, and Dean felt his jaw clench. “I don’t care what John says,” Bobby’s voice was gruffer than usual. “That’s your kid.” Dean looked at him. “You take care of that kid, and he called you his daddy.”

Dean walked closer to him. Bobby put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Bobby, I gotta tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“He is your kid, isn’t he?” Bobby had a sad smile. Dean nodded and hugged him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you’ve gotta deal with this. You’re too goddamn young.”

Dean let go and took a few steps back. John came back into the room. “Sorry about that, Bobby,” he said. Sam was asleep in his arms. Dean felt a pang of jealousy, because he should be the one holding a sleeping Sam. He should be the one Sam called dad. “You were talking about a lead, right?”

“Give the kid to Dean, we’ll talk outside.”

* * *

Sam was 7 when he found out about the family business. Dad wasn’t home, so it was just him and Dean in the apartment. Dean worked when Sam was at school, and Dad just wasn’t there. Dean was the one to talk to the schools about anything that had to do with Sam. He was the one that dropped him off in the morning, and Ms. Perkins from next door picked him up and watched him for two hours before Dean got home from work.

They were in the apartment, and it was Christmas Eve. “Dad said he’d be home by now,” Sam said when Dean turned the TV off. 

Dean was a lot older than him, being 23. He sighed and put an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “I know, Sammy,” Dean spoke the way he always spoke when Sam talked about Dad not being around. “He’s doing important work,” he said.

“What is he doing that's more important than spending time with us?” Sam asked.

Dean stood up, and Sam screeched when Dean picked him up. “Time for bed. Santa’s coming tonight.”

Sam held Dean tight, knowing he wouldn’t drop him. Dean was big and strong, an adult. Sometimes people thought Dean was his dad, not his brother. Dean would smile sadly and say ‘nope, just my brother.’ It made Sam sad to see Dean sad. “Hey, Dean,” he said as Dean put him down in front of the bathroom sink. 

“Yeah?” Dean helped him get ready to brush his teeth. 

“Sometimes I wish you were my dad,” Sam said. He smiled up at Dean, craning his neck.

Dean smiled, and his eyes got really wet. “Me too, buddy.”

It took a couple hours of pretending to sleep, but Sam got up after Dean left the apartment. He’d figured out that Santa wasn’t really a few months before then, thanks to some jerks at school. Bobby had given him a necklace to give to Dad. He’d said ‘give this to your daddy, it protects against evil. It’ll keep him safe.’ Sam decided that Dad didn’t deserve it, and that Dean did. He’d hidden it so all he had to do was put it under the tiny tree that was on the coffee table. 

He tripped over a bag on his way back to his room, hearing a book slide across the floor. He picked it up and opened it. It was dad’s journal, and it talked about something called a Hell Hound killing Mary - Dean’s mom. That’s how Dean found him. Sam was sitting on the floor, reading Dad’s journal when Dean walked back into the apartment.

“Sam!” He rushed over to him. “What are you doing up?”

Sam looked at Dean with wide eyes. “Is this real?”

“What?” Dean asked, his eyes searching Sam’s face. “What did you read from that?”

“Your mom was killed by a Hell Hound, and Dad hunts monsters,” Sam said. “Is it true?”

Dean gently took the book from him, closing it and putting it back in the bag. He’d thrown his shopping bag on the couch when he came in. “Yeah, Sammy, it’s true. Dad hunts monsters.” He put his hands on Sam’s cheeks and looked him in the eyes. “There isn’t anything in this world that either of us would let get to you. Dad’s keeping us safe. Got that?”

Sam nodded and grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Got it.”

“Now,” Dean leaned back, letting go of Sam’s face. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Sam cracked a crooked grin. “I was putting your present under the tree.”

Dean smiled, and they both stood up. “Well, let’s go ahead and open presents then. It’s Christmas already.”

Dean handed him the shopping bag, then grabbed the small package wrapped in newspaper from under the tree. He gestured for Sam to open his present first. Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a hardcover of The Secret Garden. He smiled and looked at Dean. “Thanks! The books in my classroom are too easy.”

“Yeah, that's what happens when you’re a genius in the 2nd grade,” Dean winked. He unwrapped the newspaper and froze at the amulet. “Where’d you get this?” He held it up, something like awe in his eyes.

“Bobby gave it to me,” Sam said. “I was going to give it to Dad, but you deserve it instead.”

Dean put the necklace on, and crouched down so he was level with Sam. “How’s it look?”

“Great!” Sam said.

Dean hugged Sam, then stood, picking him up. “Bedtime for real, now.”

* * *

John wanted to train Sam to hunt, like he did Dean. Dean wanted to tell Sam that he was his real dad and let him decide what he wanted to do with his life. John couldn’t believe that his son was already 25, but he also couldn’t believe that Dean’d started talking back as soon as he suggested Sam learn how to hunt. 

“That is  _ my _ son,” Dean hissed, poking John’s chest furiously. “He might not know it yet, but he’s mine. If you think he’s old enough to hunt, he’s old enough to know. We can go from there.”

John rolled his eyes. “Dean, how do you think he’ll feel when he realizes you’ve been lying to him?”

Dean huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Lying was your idea, I was a kid. I still did all the fatherly bullshit you couldn’t fucking do for me.”

At that, John pushed Dean. It wasn’t hard, just enough for him to stumble a few steps backward. “Watch your mouth, boy,” he said. “I raised you right. You’ve got a kid that worships the ground you walk on, and you’re still alive to see him smile. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful? Grateful that my kid thinks I’m his brother?” Dean looked a strange mix of sad and furious. “He told me that he wished I was his dad, and not you.”

“Why didn’t you tell him then?”

“Because he’d just found out that monsters were real!” Dean shouted. He’d really shouted then. It was something John had never seen before. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “How was I supposed to tell him that  _ everything _ was a lie?”

John put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean opened his eyes. “Not everything,” John said. “You did everything you were supposed to do. You’re his father, and you acted like it. Why does it matter who he calls Dad?”

“How would you feel if I called Bobby Dad?” Dean’s voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. John frowned, and looked at the ground. He tried to stomp down the nausea as he thought about watching Dean grow up, but having him call some other man his father. “That’s what I thought,” Dean said after John didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry,” John said, looking him in the eyes.

It was Dean’s turn to look down. He took a shuddering breath. “I’m telling Sam.”

Dean made his way back into the motel room. John followed him. “If you’re telling him, I’m gonna be there.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but he didn’t slam the door behind him. Sam was sitting on one of the beds, the bed he shared with Dean, and watching the Scooby-Doo movie with the witches in a rock band. John closed the door, as he watched Dean make his way to the kitchenette. He grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Sammy, can I talk to you?”

“The Hex Girls are singing,” Sam said, his eyes glued to the TV. Dean smiled and shook his head as he opened his bottle of beer.

John watched the interaction, and not for the first time realized that the lie might have been a mistake. The song ended, but the movie continued. “Which one you got a crush on?” Dean asked.

Sam whipped around, his eyes wide. “Dean!” His eyes were wide.

“It’s Velma,” Dean said to John. Then, he spoke to Sam again. “Velma’s gay, you know that?”

“I don’t have a crush on Velma!”

John smiled, leaning against the wall. Dean looked at him and cleared his throat. He looked at Sam. “Hey, Sammy, Dad and I got something to talk to you about. You gotta listen, and you can’t get mad before we finish explaining.”

“You wanted to tell him, this is a  _ you _ explaining thing,” John said. 

Dean shot him a glare for the first time ever. “This is on both of us. If he asks you a question, answer it.”

John nodded, and Sam turned completely to loom at them. The movie was forgotten about by the kid. “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

Dean put his beer on top of the fridge. “There isn’t an easy way to say this,” he said. He looked at Sam, didn’t dare to look away. “Y’know how you were born when I was 16?”

“Yeah,” Sam furrowed his brows. “We have different mom’s.”

Dean nodded. “We also have different dads,” he maintained eye contact, even as Sam froze. The kid's eyes widened. “Sam, I’m not your brother. I’m your father.”

“What?” Sam shrunk in on himself, and John watched Dean stand up straight.

“We had The Talk already. You remember that, right?” Dean said. He blinked rapidly. “I was 15, and I had a girlfriend named Robin. She told me she was pregnant around Christmas, and you were born that May. I was 16 and terrified. Dad said that it’d be easier if we said you were my brother.”

Tears were rolling down Sam’s cheeks. “You’re my dad?” He said. Dean nodded and took a step closer, only for Sam to lean back. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Neither of them were looking at John, too busy staring at each other. Father and son. John could tell that something had shifted, no matter how much Dean wished it wouldn’t. “I told him not to,” John heard himself say. “I didn’t want him to tell you now, either. He convinced me that you don’t deserve to be lied to anymore.”

John saw both of them look at him. Dean had a relief on his face that John hadn’t seen since John had told him that they could manage anything about the kid situation, as long as they had each other. Dean had been worried that Robin would miscarry since she was so young, and John had sworn they’d get through it no matter what. Now, he had that look because John was helping him smooth over this relationship. Sam, though. Sam looked pissed.

“You made him lie to me and you didn’t even play the role you took?” Sam snapped. “What the fuck?”

Dean turned his head quickly. “Watch your mouth.”

“No! He’s made my entire life a lie!”

Dean approached him, and Sam didn’t pull away this time. Dean pulled him into a hug. “Sammy, it’s okay. He let me do my job,” he pulled back and their eyes met again. “He didn’t take that from me. He just wanted me to be able to go to school, but I couldn’t do it. I needed to be there for you.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said. He paused, grabbed the collar of Deans flannel the same way he did as a baby. “Dad,” he said. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

Dean hugged him again, tighter than before. John heard him take a shuddering breath. He held Sam, cradling his head against his neck. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s not your fault,” he looked at John, and let tears fall. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m here.”

* * *

Sam was kind of glad that they moved every school year. He was able to go from telling his classmates that his older brother Dean took care of him while their dad was away, to telling his classmates that it was just him and his Dad. It took him a year to stop thinking of John as his deadbeat dad, and start thinking of him as his grandfather.

_ “You could call him Papa John _ ,” Dean had said when Sam pointed out he needed something new to call John. Sam rolled his eyes and said he’d just call him grandpa.

Sam was 9 when Dean had told him the truth. That was five years ago. Sam was now a freshman in high school, and his Dad got them an apartment in Fairfax, Indiana. Dean was working construction, and Sam was going to Truman High School. It wasn’t Dean’s first time doing construction, he was actually really good at it, like he was most things he did. But, there weren’t many things one could do with a GED.

During attendance for every class period on the first day, people looked at him. He was the new kid. He was short, and people hadn’t seen him before. Sam Winchester, the nerdy new kid every year. Maybe it was Dad’s fault, moving around despite Dad being old enough to tell Grandpa that he didn’t want to hunt. He never looked truly happy when he was hunting. He was just resigned to it being a thing he did. Maybe Sam could ask Dad if they could stop moving so much. He could probably get him to agree to move in with Bobby and work at the salvage yard.

Mr. Wyatt assigned the class an essay. They had to write about an experience they had with their family during the previous summer. Sam wasn’t sure what he could write, except maybe the fact that they traveled and lived in motels. Dad had gone on a vampire hunt with Grandpa. 

Sam got home, and Dad was watching Dr. Sexy reruns on the couch. “Hey, Dad,” Sam said.

Dean smiled like he did every time Sam called him that. “Hey, Sammy, how was school?”

“I have to write a summer experience essay for English,” Sam said.

Dad pursed his lips. “You could write about my failed attempt at teaching you how to take care of the Impala.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat on the couch. “I was thinking about summarizing the summer and taking out the hunting.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dad smiled, ruffling Sam’s hair. 

Sam swatted at him and scooted further away. He looked at the TV, then blushed as Dr. Sexy started making out with a woman in an elevator. “Do you think you could stop hunting, and we could get a permanent home?” Sam asked.

There was silence, aside from the noise of the TV. Sam turned to see Dad looking at him thoughtfully. “You wanna settle down? No more family business?” He asked, his expression carefully blank. “No more saving people and hunting things?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sam said. “I wanna be normal.”

Dean moved Sam’s bangs out of his face. He rubbed his thumb on Sam’s cheek. “Okay,” he said. “The lease for this place is up in June, so we’ll have to find a place to stay after that unless you wanna renew the lease and stay here.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe we could be closer to Uncle Bobby?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Dean assured. 

Sam turned in his essay the next day. He’d written and written, and poured his heart out. It probably wasn’t the best, but he got it done and he said what he wanted to say.

It took a few weeks, but Dean got a call from Sam’s school asking to come in for parent-teacher conference night. His teachers said generally the same thing every time.  _ He’s a wonderful kid, smart and well behaved. I’ve only seen him with one friend, though. Is there anything going on at home, aside from… well… you know… _ and then Dean met Mr. Wyatt.

“Evening, sir,” Dean said as he shook the man's hand.

Mr. Wyatt smiled. “You must be Sam’s father.”

Dean nodded and they both sat. “Yeah, he talks an awful lot about you, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that, Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Wyatt said. “I hope it's only good things.”

Dean was nervous. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re his favorite teacher, probably of all time.” He didn’t wanna look like an ass in front of Sam’s favorite teacher. “How’s Sam doing? Is it as good as it seems on my end?”

“He’s very smart, and I’m hoping that he capitalizes on his potential in the future,” Mr. Wyatt said. “He’s 14 and has absolutely no idea what he wants to do once he graduates high school, which he could do early considering what classes his standardized test results are placing him. He just needs to be properly motivated into looking that far ahead.”

Dean looked down at the man’s desk. “So he’s doing well in your class, but you’re worried about his future?”

“I’m asking you to encourage him to look into college,” Mr. Wyatt corrected. Dean looked at him with furrowed brows. “He doesn’t know if he wants to go to college, because his dad didn’t and he thinks you’re leading a good life.”

“I dropped out of high school, and you expect me to believe Sam thinks I’m a success story?”

Mr. Wyatt opened his desk drawer. “I saved this essay that Sam wrote a few weeks ago. The first assignment I gave out.” He handed the paper to Dean. “You should read it, and then we can continue discussing how best to help Sam prepare for the future.”

Dean looked down, saw the date written on the paper, and knew it was the summer experience essay. 

_ This past summer was similar to every summer that I can remember. My dad and I traveled to different cities and different states with my grandfather. We’d stay in motels, and then Dad picked a city and we got an apartment for the school year. Except, it was different this year because I never had to correct myself about my dad being my dad. When I was younger, Dad and Grandpa had told everyone but Uncle Bobby (who isn’t really an uncle, just a family friend) that I was Dad’s younger half brother. They told me the truth when I was nine, and it was hard adjusting. I called him Dean most of the time for the first year after he told me, and it got easier over time. This summer, I didn’t slip up a single time. _

_ Dad always did dad stuff with me. He took care of me, even when he was pretending to be my brother. This summer wasn’t an exception. He taught me how to change the oil in his car, and started quizzing me for the written portion of a driving test so I can get my permit in a few years. It was nice.  _

_ I know he’s had it rough after his mom died when he was a kid, but he never let that stop him from taking care of me. We were homeless when I was a baby. Dad was 16, he lived in a car and motel rooms with his dad and a baby he didn’t know how to take care of. But he did it, and he tells me that my first word was dada and it was me screaming because Grandpa picked me up but I wanted Dad, and Dad had to pretend that it didn’t hurt to have to pretend I had gotten it wrong. I knew even then that Dean was my dad, and this past summer was the first time I ever went an extended period of time without accidentally calling him by his name.  _

_ That’s my favorite memory of the summer. Realizing it when we got into the new apartment, and Grandpa told me he kinda missed the time when I called him dad instead. I said “I already have a dad,” and he got kinda sad, but it didn’t hurt to make him sad. Not like it hurt when I accidentally called Dad “Dean”. Then I realized, I hadn’t seen that look on his face at all this summer. I didn’t make Dad sad. I hope that I can repeat that every summer. _

Dean took a deep breath and blinked to try to stave off tears. “Thanks,” he said. “The kid isn’t the best with writing, but he sure knows how to tug on the heartstrings.”

Mr. Wyatt smiled and gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I let him and his friend Barry eat in here during lunch, so I asked him when Barry was out sick about your home life.” The expression of his face was serious but still kind. “I’d already known that there was the moving around a lot, the teen pregnancy, and the situation with Sam’s early upbringing, but I didn’t know for sure if it was a safe environment.” Dean felt his stomach twist up in knots. “He adores you. He said you deserve better than what life threw at you, but he's proud of what you’ve become, and usually, its parents saying that about kids. It showed me that you raised an empathetic, intelligent, and all-around kind young man. I just hope you can help him figure out what he wants to do as an adult so that he can use that potential.”

Dean nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him about college.”


End file.
